May Sixteenth
by FxckYeahItsNMI
Summary: They first laid eyes on each other at a midnight showing of. "Fame". The date was May 16th, 1980. What happens in the following four year are far from their hopes and expectations. Period Piece: 1980s
1. Part One

_May 16, 1980_

_They both filed into the crowded theater, giggling excitedly and tossing kernels of popcorn at each other. It was the opening night of "Fame," and it was way more crowded than Mercedes originally expected it to be. She wore a simple pair of jeans with a flowing floral top and a yellow floral headband in her long, curly hair. Despite her best friend Santana's best efforts to get her in a pair of yellow platform heels, Mercedes was able to get away with a pair of black Mary Jane shoes with a small heel. She didn't need to look like a giant sunflower at 8:00 at night. People twittered about within the theater, excitedly. Occasionally, someone would throw some popcorn at the screen when another reminder popped up on the screen, urging us to get food from the concession stand. _

_"Eventually we'll get what WE PAID FOR!" Someone shouted._

_"YEAH SHOW US THE MOVIE!" Mercedes and Santana shouted in unison, giggling afterward. _

_"Shut up!" Someone threw a handful of popcorn at the two girls' heads and they immediately turned in their seats to see who the culprits were. To no one's surprise, it was Mahone and his duo of Merry Idiots, laughing like the morons that they were. The 6'2 ringleader, Mahone, squinted his dark eyes at the girls in amusement, pulling his blonde pixie of a girlfriend, Quinn, closer to him. Quinn shifted uncomfortably, but remained silent._

_"Can we help you?" Santana barked at the 3 boys cackling a few rows behind them. They all exchanged looks and started laughing harder. Mercedes normally kept her mouth shut when it came to Mahone and his boys. They all put on this front like they were a gang of tough Italian teenagers, when everyone knew that only 1 of them, Mahone, was truly Italian. They were the product of parents who let nannies raise them. They ran a muck, causing trouble at every corner, and torturing every student that didn't have pale skin like themselves. Most people knew how to handle them, and they were more annoying than intimidating._

_"Seriously, we're just here to have a good time, what's your problem?" Mercedes asked, furrowing her dark eyebrows together_

_"The Puerto Rican and the fat African wanna start something." A sandy brown haired boy with a deep scar running down his face - His name was Clarence, but he always wanted people to call him "Capone." No one ever did- stage whispered, nudging Mahone._

_"I see," Mahone tossed more popcorn at the two of them, "I know how you people can't get jobs, so make it work. Maybe you can trade it in for some foodstamps, Tubby." _

_Mercedes felt her face heat up, and she turned away from them. It was true, her mother couldn't find work. Nursing was all she knew. Times were hard, and between the drugs and violence, people were dropping like flies. Eventually, the stress took a toll on her poor mother, and she was let go. Money has been tight, and she and her brother Michael both worked to help out._

_"Fuck off, Mahone. You and your little girlfriend." Santana spat, adding an extra tone of disgust at the word. Mercedes winced. She didn't even want to see the look on Quinn's face at the moment. She knew Quinn probably looked as if she'd been slapped. There was a sound of a squeaking chair, but then she realized that it was Quinn shrieking._

_"Honey…sweetie let it go. I deserved that. It's okay," She urgently reassured. I didn't even want to see what had just gone on, but I assumed that Santana hit a nerve._

_"Santana, turn around, and stop causing trouble."_

_"What!? Mercy, they started first!"_

_Mercedes rolled her dark brown eyes, "Well, I'm finishing it."_

_Defeated, Santana did as she was told, crossing one of her well toned legs over the other under her short red skirt._

_"He's such a punk." She murmured._

_Mercedes stifled a chuckle at her feisty companion and playfully nudged her, "I love you, girl. Never a dull moment."_

_Santana softened up a bit and smiled back just as another handful of popcorn came flying in their direction._

_"Hey thanks! You're actually saving me money right now, ya morons!" Santana spun around, cupping the popcorn that landed in her lap. She grinned and popped one in her mouth, "Keep it coming!"_

_"Shut up!" _

_After a moment, she chuckled again and sat back in her seat, shaking her head. Her black ponytail swung freely behind her and she laughed a little harder. Concerned for her friend, Mercedes stared at her curiously. Santana covered her mouth to hold back another round of laughter, and took a deep breath._

_"Don't look now," she leaned over and whispered in Mercedes' ear, "but the new guy…the one with the massive chomper…he's staring at you."_

_Confused as to who she was talking about, Mercedes quirked an eyebrow._

_"Who?"_

_Santana nodded her head back, causing Mercedes to turn in her seat. _

_Oh, hello, she thought as she caught a blonde boy with shaggy blonde hair quickly averting his green eyes from her. He was sitting next to Clarence at the end of the row, and she hadn't even noticed him. Ever. He turned his attention to his new buddies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue and white varsity jacket. When the lights in the theater started to dim, Mercedes turned back to face the screen._

_"Who is that?"_

_Santana shrugged, "All I know is that he's new to the area. Kinda weird that he's hanging out with them though," she popped another popcorn kernel in her mouth, "he looks kinda 'Apple pie-ish' to me."_

_"Apple pie-ish?"_

_"You know like…" she swallowed, "those boys you see on TV that are in those commercials…an All-American boy! School quarterback, good grades, perfect family and lots of money…you know. That type. Like you expect him to be on Happy Days or something."_

_Mercedes pursed her lips in contemplation just as the MGM lion appeared on the screen, roaring. People in the theater clapped, excitedly. She, eventually, shook her head clear of the thoughts and focused on the movie. Although, she realized, she could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of her head._

* * *

_Sam was a little worried. It was clear that his new friends didn't like the girl, but he didn't understand why. Okay, maybe he did, a little. She was Black. That was reason enough in their minds. They claimed they weren't racist, but found enjoyment in picking on non-whites. Sam didn't question it, but he didn't accept it either. He stayed silent as they tore apart the dark haired girl sitting a few rows ahead of them. She and her Spanish friend giggled amongst each other, and shouted something at the screen. It was then that Mahone decided to throw food at them. He grimaced. Mahone had definitely changed after he left the suburbs. The city made him mean. It was hard to believe that they had, at one point, been best friends. Nowadays, Sam only hung out with Mahone because he was expected to. That's it._

_He didn't expect what happened next. He didn't expect to be left speechless and blown away by the curly haired girl in front of him. As she spun to glare at them -mostly, Mahone- his jaw dropped a little. He didn't realize that he was staring. He didn't realize that he was left dumbfounded by the girl angrily pouting. God, did she look adorable when she pouted. She said something back to Mahone, but Sam's ears weren't working right. It was as if everything slowed down and his vision became tunneled, only focusing on the girl with the silky deep brown skin. The little voice in the back of his mind told him to wake up from his trance. He wasn't SUPPOSED to be attracted to her, and it wouldn't work. But Sam's body wouldn't respond. Instead, he bit his bottom lip and frowned slightly as the girl turned back around, and he'd caught a glimpse of her face falling. Her Spanish friend, they called her Satan, took one look at her companion and lashed out at Mahone, who then made to lunge at her, but was held down by Quinn. Capone nudged Sam and said something, but he simply turned to him, nodded, and turned his attention back to the mysterious girl. He wanted to know her name. He knew better than to ask the boys, because he knew they wouldn't approve. But damn it, if he weren't curious to know. After the boys threw their third helping of popcorn, and Satan chastised them, she briefly stared at Sam while he stared at her friend. When he felt her gaze, Sam gave her back a look that, he hoped, read, "What do you want?" Instead she laughed and sat in her seat, laughing some more. _

_"What was that about?" The only other blonde in the group, Marcus, questioned aloud from Mahone's right side. Sam realized that he was talking about their giggling and whispering. At that very moment, the girl turned and locked eyes with him. Her dark eyes pierced his own for a split second, and his heart gave a terrifying jolt. He had to look away, and he did, forcing his eyes on Capone._

_"I don't know, man. I don't get girls." Sam shrugged, silently trying to slow down his racing heart. The lights dimmed, mercifully in Sam's case, and he let out a deep sigh. _

_Who was that? His eyes found the back of her head, shadowed against the bright movie screen. Her curls cascaded down her shoulders and back, and he wondered how soft they were. Shaking his head, he inwardly groaned._

_What was he doing? He chuckled to himself. Girls like that didn't belong with guys like him. And they both knew it._


	2. Part Two

_Saturday. May 16, 1981_

Sophomore Year

"Don't you know that it's extremely rude to stare?" Santana snapped in Mercedes' face, causing her to start.

"I wasn't staring," the guilty girl mumbled, tearing her eyes away from the blonde boy sitting at the front of the bus, and staring down at her own small hands. The boy, Sam, threw her for a loop. When no one he knew was around, he pursued her day and night. He called all the time, he left notes on her fire escape, and, at one point, he even sat on her stoop, waiting for her to come downstairs for her Saturday morning trip to the hair salon. But when school came around, he would ignore her. At times, he'd walk into her in the hallways and not say excuse me, or he'd chuckle and snort at Mahone's newest bigoted insult. Mercedes wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, she wanted to just ignore him and move on with her life. But, on the other hand, she loved how she felt when she was around him. Her mom didn't know about him, it was true. And they normally received quite a few disgusted looks and insults whenever they walked down the street together. Sometimes, when it got really bad, Mercedes allowed the boy to walk behind her so no one would think that they were together.

If her mother knew what she was doing, she'd be very disappointed. Mercedes visibly frowned.

"You need to stop seeing that boy," Santana warned, as if reading Mercedes' mind, "He's nothing but trouble for you."

Mercedes knew that it was the truth. But it wasn't like boys were always after her, and Sam was someone who made her feel good- when he wasn't avoiding her or laughing at her. Mercedes grew ashamed of her own desperation.

"I will…eventually." She mumbled the last part, but Santana's facial expression confirmed her belief that she'd heard.

"Carajo," Santana leaned in closer to her best friend, quickly glancing around her at the intruding faces, and then back at Mercedes, "No, not 'eventually.' Now. You don't see how toxic he is for you. Remember the night when we went to see Fame for the first time?"

How could she forget? It was the first time that she'd seen the green-eyed boy, and it was the first time she'd heard his voice. M_ahone, Quinn, and the boys were walking away from the theater, towards the local pizza shop. Mercedes and Santana were walking in the same general direction, but heading back home. They made sure to walk as far away from the group of boys as possible, to avoid any trouble. And that's when it happened. The girls heard someone singing, "Let's Stay Together" by Al Green, and they thought it was someone's radio in a window. Obviously, you can't confuse Al Green's voice for anyone else's. But it was easier to believe that, than to believe that the voice was coming from one of the boys at the end of the block._

_"I-I'm so in love with you_

_Whatever you want to do_

_Is alright with me_

_Cause you make me feel_

_So brand new_

_And I want to spend my life with you"_

_ There was a bit of gravel to it, and some rasp. It was an enticing sound and, despite being a full block away from the group of boys, Mercedes strained her hearing just to catch bits and pieces of what he had to offer. He continued on effortlessly, and when he got to the chorus, Mercedes had all of her attention on his wafting voice._

_"Let me be the one you come running to_

_I'll never be untrue_

_Ooh Baby_

_Lets, Let's stay together_

_Lovin you whether_

_Whether_

_Times are good or bad, happy or sad."_

_He suddenly stopped when one of the boys asked him how he knew that song so well. She couldn't hear his full response, but only caught something about his parents' record collection. She found out, later, that he owned a bunch of Soul records, all his, and that he played them on a regular basis. _

Blushing at the memory, Mercedes jumped as Santana snapped in her face once more, demanding her attention.

"NO! No I'm not talking about his singing. I'm talking about what happened after they stopped off at the pizza place."

Mercedes winced at the memory, "I…I'm sure it was an accident."

"No one throws pizza at someone by accident."

Santana hadn't known that Sam apologized over and over during a particularly long phone conversation one evening. Granted, "sorry" didn't get the stain out of her favorite yellow top, and "sorry" didn't erase the memory of all the people laughing at her, pointing. It took everything in her power not to let her brother kick the shit out of Sam. Leroy was genuinely nice, but when it came down to Mercedes' safety, her brother didn't play any games. Instead, Santana gave him a good right hook to the eye, and they were all collectively kicked out. Mahone tried to play it off like he didn't care, pulling Quinn down the block with his boys in tow. Quinn briefly turned, giving Mercedes an apologetic look before following her massive boyfriend. She missed Quinn.

"I know Santana, I know…" Mercedes sighed, running her fingers through her hair. The bus pulled up to Mercedes' stop, and she saw Sam pop up from his seat at the same time she did. "Call me later, 'Tana. Okay?"

Mercedes noticed that Santana shook her head, disappointed in her decisions. She didn't quite blame her, which is why she was giving Sam an ultimatum today. She filed behind Sam out of the exit, and took a deep breath. As they both stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, she glanced up, meeting Sam's gaze. He gave a small smile and shoved his hands into his front pockets. He looked so good in his jeans and black leather jacket, and his blonde hair fell over his emerald eyes adorably.

Damn it, focus, Mercedes thought to herself.

A few passersby swore as they walked around the two of them standing in the middle of the walkway, but Mercedes was too caught up in her own thoughts to say anything back to them. The bus noisily pulled away and she caught Santana's glare from the back window.

"So," Sam said, smiling.

"So,"

As much as she wanted to return the smile back, she had to force herself to stay stoic. She couldn't let Sam take advantage of her anymore. As the school year was quickly coming to a close, she wanted to start off her summer fresh. Whether Sam wanted to be apart of her summer plans was completely up to him. And Mercedes would let him know it. After a long, awkward silence, she'd gotten the courage to speak first.

"We need to talk," she stared him directly in the eye, and stood straight, "and we need to talk, now."

Sam quirked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, "Okay…what did I do this time?"

She grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, and pulled him across the street towards her brownstone. A few of the people on the street gave them weird looks, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Once she'd gently pushed him into a seated position, she crouched down so that she could be eye level with him.

"I need you to listen to me…very…carefully," she spoke slow, and enunciated every syllable.

"You know, I may have dyslexia, but I'm not stupid, Mercy." He rolled his eyes but gave her that side smirk that normally caused her heart to stutter within her chest. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes

"Sam, this isn't working," she began, opening her eyes slowly. Sam stared back at her with such an intensity that it almost made her uncomfortable. His eyes looked confused.

"What isn't working?" Mercedes was fully aware that he knew the answer to his own question, as he forced another crooked smirk upon his lips; one that didn't reach his eyes.

"This," Mercedes motioned between them, "isn't working."

Sam chuckled ironically, "So, you invited me to your house just to break up with me?"

Technically, they weren't dating, Mercedes thought, "I'm not laughing, Samuel."

"Can you really blame me for not being able to believe that?"

Mercedes' eyes dropped to her hands, a nervous habit she'd developed during her freshman year, and swallowed hard, "I'm talking to somebody else…"

Sam had never had a crush on a Black girl before. Not one he knew personally, anyway, and he didn't know very many in the suburbs of Westchester County. The closest he'd had to a crush on a Black girl, was his interest in Pam Grier. He'd found a few of Pam's films in his basement, by accident, when he was twelve. Needless to say, he found a new appreciation for curves and sass after that experience. Eventually, his dad found out that he'd been sneaking down to the basement to watch a woman flash her breasts, and the movies were taken away. Charlie Evans claimed that he sold the films, but Sam knew better.

When the Evans family finances started to go to shit when he was 13, they'd all moved to the Bronx. The neighborhood was mostly Italian, and he only knew one other family that lived there- Mahone's. But the urban environment was a game changer in Sam's eyes. There were different types of girls everywhere he went, something he wasn't used to back in the suburbs. For a full year, Sam never really paid attention to the girls romantically. For the most part, he'd admire their assets from afar. He knew that as long as he looked but didn't touch, everything would be okay. However, his mother didn't even approve of him looking at the brown skinned girls in the city, and she would let it be known in an obnoxious manner, causing Sam to receive a few judging glances. Being born in 1966, Sam had missed the riots and protests, but it was clear that things didn't change much. All that was different about 1981 was that Blacks could go to school with Whites, and that they could all take the same bus. That's all Sam noticed anyway, based on what his parents told him. He didn't understand why, at all. But he'd learned not to question it. People tended to get very touchy when the riots and protests were brought up.

_But, Sam would always remember the first time he'd talked to her. It was after the school's basketball game, and they had won 30-27. It was a close game, and the team worked hard. Sam wasn't exactly the star of the team, but he held his own when given the chance. The real star was a really tall Black kid named Leroy. He was someone a lot of people seemed to like, and he seemed to like everyone in return…Except Leroy seemed to have it out for Sam, and he wasn't sure why. But that was besides the point. After a quick shower and change, Sam jogged out to the court, hell bent on chatting up one of the cheerleaders and possibly asking her to hang with himself and Mahone for pizza. Imagine his surprise when he was faced with something better than any cheerleader. The quiet girl sat in the 3rd level of the metal bleachers, scribbling in a notebook and biting her lip in concentration. They were alone, and she had been so deep in her task that she didn't bother to look up. Sam stared at her, something he'd grown used to doing whenever he noticed the girl around school. That day -he'd never forget- she wore her hair in a curly ponytail with bangs, and pieces of loose hair framing her face. It looked slightly wild, but at the same time, it made her look like an angel. She wore a pair of plain blue jeans, and black converses similar to a pair Sam had at home, along with a plain white tee shirt and a varsity jacket like the one resting on Sam's shoulders. He wondered who it belonged to, and his heart clenched at the thought of her having a boyfriend already. There was only one way to find out. He took a deep, silent breath._

_"Hey." He called up to her._

_The studious girl jumped slightly at the sudden interruption of her thoughts, and looked up at him with wide eyes. She turned to look behind her, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle as she turned around and pointed to herself._

_"Are you talking to me?" She asked._

_"You're the only person here," Sam tried to keep his face calm, but the right side of his mouth slowly rose into a smirk. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep his nervous, sweaty hands out of view. He didn't understand why he was so nervous. She was just a girl. A beautiful, intelligent, kind girl. But a girl nonetheless._

_"Well…I don't know. It's not like I've ever had a conversation with you," she shrugged and rested her elbows on her knees, "can I help you with something? Do you want to throw another pizza at me?" _

_She grinned as Sam cringed and she shook her head, "When Mahone says jump, you leap. Figures. Fear makes people do stupid things."_

_Sam began to protest, but he decided against it. Only a minute into the conversation, and she could already see right through him. Sam wondered whether she had a gift, or if he was just really transparent. _

_"I can't just talk to you? Why does there have to be an ulterior motive?" Ulterior motive. He wasn't sure where that came from. He never really used that term. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for that one._

_The girl eyed him and smiled, "I figured you'd talk to me eventually…what with your stalking and all."_

_Sam felt his face heat up. Was he really that obvious? He really did believe that he was being subtle with his admiration._

_"It wasn't stalking…" Sam looked down at his feet and bounced on the balls of his feet. He probably looked childish, and he wanted to kick himself for even doing the action. When he looked up at her, she was scribbling in her notebook furiously, with that same bright smile on her face. Just looking at her smile made Sam smile back. He looked like an idiot, standing there, with his hands in his pockets, grinning stupidly at a girl that wasn't paying him any attention. _

_"What are you writing about?" He asked her, nosily._

_"Things."_

_"What kind of things?"_

_She slammed her notebook closed, the smile gone from her face, "It's clear you want my attention for a specific reason. Would you like to tell me what it is?" _

_Sam simply shrugged, trying to get a rise out of her. It clearly worked when she grit her teeth and slowly blinked._

_"For a cute guy, you really are annoying and nosy. I thought popular guys were supposed to be cool or something."_

_ Sam stopped listening after "cute guy." Had he heard right? The girl he'd been checking out had been checking him out, too? A smug grin played on his lips and he raised an eyebrow._

_"You think I'm cute?"_

_She sucked her lips inward, forming a straight line, and she averted her eyes. She was caught, and she was silent. Sam chuckled and climbed onto the 1st level of bleachers, feeling incredibly large and not the scrawny, tall, and lanky 14 year old that he was. _

_"Well that's good because," he sat on the 2nd level of bleachers, right at her feet, "I think you're cute, too."_

_The angel like beauty tried not to smile, and bit down hard on her bottom lip. She dropped her head, hiding her face from him. All of a sudden, she was shy and at a loss for words. He wasn't sure where his sudden boldness was coming from. He supposed that her slip up gave him the green light to move forward. Normally, he wasn't sure if girls were interested in the nerdy, blonde guy with the abnormally large mouth. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he was breaking all sorts of unspoken rules by trying so hard to impress her. But, at the moment, he didn't care. There was a brief moment of silence as she shook her head and her smile disappeared from her face. It was replaced with a deep frown and dark eyes._

_"Wait…you humiliated me! You ruined my best outfit! I should kick your fucking ass for that, Evans! Who the hell do you think I am, Mr. Freshman Varsity? I'm not one of your fan girls. I don't give a damn who you are-"_

_Shit, Sam thought, sourly. He always got included in Mahone's mess._

_"I really, REALLY am sorry about that, um-"_

_He paused, hoping she would understand that he wanted to know her name. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, even more frustrated, "So you think I'm cute, and you wanna talk me up, but you don't even know what my name is? You threw food at me and you don't even know who I AM?"_

_ The sudden change in emotion almost gave Sam a headache. One minute, the girl was all sarcasm and sass, the next she was a giggling schoolgirl. Now she was back to her sass with a lot of feminine wrath._

_"I-um-I…" Sam stuttered, completely helpless._

_"I-um-I…" she mimicked. As much as he hated that, Sam couldn't help but laugh at it. The whole situation itself was somewhat humorous, and Sam couldn't help but laugh harder at the sitcom-y quality of it. She clearly didn't find it as funny as he did, but he couldn't help it. Everytime he stopped and glanced at her, her angry face made him laugh harder. When she got up to leave, he quickly stood and shot his arms out to stop her, shaking his head. _

_Sam eventually calmed down and took a deep breath, clearing his throat, "Well, you know my name. Maybe I'm not as observant as you. You know they say blondes can be a little slow," he pointed to his head, and the girl cracked a small smile despite her best efforts to keep herself stoic. He suddenly became very confident, and decided to lean in closer and drop his voice a few octaves, "And maybe I just want to get to know you better? Is that so wrong?"_

_ The girl's eyes widened and she shook her head slowly. Sam gaped at the depth in her eyes. The chocolate brown orbs looked doe-like and innocent. Just looking into them, he suddenly felt the need to protect her. He wanted to shield her from Mahone's emotional blows, and he immediately cursed himself for allowing a good sum of her humiliation to take place. She was a roller coaster for sure. She was confident and stubborn, and then she was forgiving and sweet. Before he could say anything more, the locker room doors opened and the sound of footsteps echoed through the gymnasium._

_"Sorry I took so long, Merce. You ready to-"_

_It was Leroy, come to pick up the girl, and he looked confused and pissed. What did he call her? Merce? How did he know her? Sam's eyes flickered back to the varsity jacket on the girl and then back to the hulking seventeen year old boy._

_"Evans," he said, shortly, "Merce, is there a problem? Did he say something to you?"_

_Sam noticed Leroy's muscles under his short sleeved tee shirt as they began to tense up. Confused as to what was going on, Sam opened his mouth to speak._

_"Don't do it, Evans," his voice boomed throughout the gym, and Sam flinched, "Keep your mouth shut. I was talking to Mercedes."_

_He immediately did as he was told to avoid getting punched in the jaw. So that was her name. Mercedes. He wanted to turn to her and make some smooth comment about how the pretty name matched her pretty face, but he didn't want to get his neck snapped. So he remained quiet._

_"He wasn't bothering me. He was just making himself look foolish." She stood to her feet and stepped down the bleachers, not giving Sam a second glance. Leroy eyed Sam carefully as he helped Mercedes down from the 1st level of bleachers, and then he threw a protective arm around her shoulders. The action caused Sam to grit his teeth. Jealousy? This early? Highly unlikely._

_"You," Leroy stabbed a finger into his chest, causing the skinny boy to cringe, "stay away from Mercedes. The only reason you're not laid out on the ground right now, is because my sister told me not to hit you. So thank her. Next time, you won't be so lucky."_

_Sam's eyes flickered to Mercedes, who gave him a subtle smile. At that point, he felt even more shitty than he did before. She'd protected him, when he didn't deserve to be protected. He felt like a major asshole. A colossal major asshole._

_"C'mon, Leroy, I don't need to see you get into anymore fights," She smiled up at her big brother and poked him in the cheek, causing him to soften up a bit. Leroy seemed like such a nice guy, but now Sam knew why the guy hated him so much. You don't mess with a guy's baby sister. That was asking for a death wish. He knew that now. He breathed a sigh of relief as Mercedes and Leroy turned and headed for the exit._

_"You need to stop talking to that boy, Merce. He's not a good guy," he'd heard Leroy warn her, "You know who he associates with. As much as I'd like to punch the Mahone kid in the throat, I can't. You know why."_

_Mercedes nodded in understanding, before giving Sam one last glance and walking out of the gym. Once he was alone, Sam let out a sigh of relief. Not only was he happy that Leroy didn't kick him in the face Chuck Norris style -though he felt that he deserved it- but he finally knew the girls name. Mercedes. Sister of Leroy Jones. Mercedes Jones._

_"Mercedes," Sam whispered to himself. He liked the way it sounded coming from his own lips, "Mercedes."_

_A smile crept on his lips, and he hoisted his book bag onto his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a bright pink notebook sitting on the 3rd level of the bleachers. On the inside cover read:_

_**"Property of Mercedes V. Jones- If found, please contact (718)-555-3145. Thank you! Xoxo"**_

Sam never did find out if she'd left her notebook on purpose, but he wound up calling her that evening and talking to her on the phone for quite some time. As time passed, they grew closer, and his friends grew more suspicious. They started hounding him about her, and, as much as it pained him to do it, he had to deny everything. This meant that he couldn't defend her whenever Mahone made his hurtful remarks (although, had he admitted to everything, the ridicule would be much worse for both Mercedes as well as Sam) and he couldn't punch the other boys -as hard as it was for him to calm himself down- when they made sexual advances towards his girl. Technically, Mercedes wasn't his, because he'd never asked her out. But he assumed that he didn't have to, and that was his first mistake. So as he sat on her front stoop listening to her explain how she met Jamie, one of Sam's team mates, his mind was blank. When she'd finished talking, he just stared at her.

"Sam, say something, please?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. Hadn't he done everything right? He made sure she felt loved, didn't he? Everyday, he went to bed excited to wake up the next morning, because it meant that he'd see her one more time. Whenever she spoke to him, her voice sounded so clear and melodic. It reminded him of Christmas bells, or maybe a harp. He couldn't fully describe it. It was so delicate, but not weak. It was strong, but not harsh. Her laugh caused a shiver to run down his back, and her smile made even the shittiest day a little better. Being only fifteen, Sam wasn't entirely sure what love was. But what he felt for Mercedes Jones was pretty damn close, and he knew it. He was there to love her, and to protect her. He was her Superman. Or at least, he wanted to be. But the circumstances wouldn't allow it. He wanted nothing more than to walk through school with her on his arm, kissing her, tickling her, making her smile, and kicking the shit out of any guy that had something to say about her.

He stared into her eyes and swallowed hard. He wanted to be there for her, so badly.

"Mercy."

"Yes, Sam."

He patted his lap, "Comere?"

She hesitated, and then did as she was told, slowly sitting in Sam's lap. He intertwined her fingers with his own, and kissed the back of her hand. His lips lingered on her soft skin, and he heard her breathing hitch slightly. The soft smell of apples and vanilla drifted from her, and he closed his eyes, enjoying it. He searched for the right words, and finally opened his eyes to look up at her. The sun shining down on her, in addition to the chestnut ringlets around her shoulders, made her look like a goddess.

"Mercy, you can be with whoever you want. If you want to be with Jamie Johnson, then that is your choice," he swallowed hard, "I, personally, believe that he's not good enough for you." And he wasn't. The way he talked about girls in the locker room was disgusting. Out in public, he put on this front like he was the perfect guy. But, behind closed doors, he was a snake.

"And you are?" She harshly replied. Sam swore that his heart stopped beating in his chest the moment her words left her mouth. Her face dropped.

"Sam, I'm sorry. But I hate the way you treat me. You act like you're ashamed of me, and," she paused to look down at her hands, "I'm not someone you should be ashamed of. I refuse to me someone you're ashamed of. You don't have to stay with me out of pity. I'm not a charity case. You can stop pretending."

She wasn't making any sense at all, she was babbling mindlessly, and Sam resisted the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her.

"Pretending? Mercedes, pretending to do what?"

"Pretending that you care about me, when in actuality I'm not good enough to be around you in public. But I'm good enough to be with you in private. I don't know what your motives are, Samuel. I don't care to know. But I'm so tired of hiding.

Sam pulled his hand away from hers and furrowed his eyebrows together, "Do you actually believe that I'm keeping us a secret for my own benefit?"

"Well why wouldn't it be for your own benefit? You get to talk to whomever you want to because no one knows you're with me. You can still be the big man on campus without me dragging you down. At least, with Jamie, we run in the same circles, so he won't mind being with me…and…and…" Her face crumbled and Sam was prepared for the tears to fall, but she forced herself to keep composure, "and Santana was right. This relationship is toxic. I'm not letting you treat me this way," she stood up from his lap and his hands dropped pitifully onto the empty space.

"Mercedes, you don't understand. I-I…I want to be with you. So badly. I want to make you mine and only mine. I try to give you as much as I can. Isn't that enough?"

She clenched her jaw and let out a deep sigh, "Sam, if this is you giving me your all, then I don't want it. I don't want to be an afterthought."

Sam stood to his feet and let out a frustrated groan, grabbing his hair.

"Are you even listening to me? I want to BE with you! I care about you and I want to make you mine! I'm showing you that I care!"

"Yeah when your buddies aren't around-"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP FOR FIVE SECONDS AND LET ME TALK?" Sam shouted at her. She jumped and shrank away from him, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. A few people walking down the street stopped to glare at him. An older man with a business suit on asked if there was a problem, and teens both quickly shook their heads. As he strode away, Sam took a few deep breaths to calm his temper.

"Mercedes, I want nothing more than to be your boyfriend. Everything you think that Jamie Johnson can do for you, I can do. I'm willing to do anything for you. I can't force you to be with me," he took a few steps towards her, reaching out for her. She backed away slightly towards the edge of the sidewalk, "but I can beg. I can plead. I can get on my knees if you want me to." He normally would never reduce himself to that, but for Mercedes, he was ready and willing.

"If you want to do all of these things for me, then what's stopping you?" She asked, keeping her eyes trained to the area just above Sam's right shoulder.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was scared. He was afraid of how people would react, and what they'd do to him. More importantly, he was afraid of what they'd do to Mercedes. He could manage a few cuts and bruises, but if anyone ever laid a single finger on Mercy, he was sure to get arrested for murder. And since her brother went away for college, Sam was ready to protect her at any given chance. At least, that's what he believed up until she told him otherwise.

"Sam?"

Her voice dragged him out of his thoughts, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"What's stopping you from being with me? What's got you so against making me yours?"

He wanted to tell her everything, but he knew she wouldn't understand. She'd just blindly believe that she could handle it, and Sam knew that it was way bigger than the both of them. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He knew this was going to be a lose-lose situation.

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't."

She nodded her head slowly in understanding, "Then, I can't talk to you anymore. This is done. I'm sorry, Sam." Her voice cracked on his name.

And with that, she walked past him, up the stoop, and entered the tall brownstone, closing the door firmly behind her.

He sat on her stoop and watched as her bedroom light turned on. He didn't know how long he sat on her doorstep, but he continued to swallow down tears. He hated crying in public.

He hated the situation fate had placed them in. He loved being with Mercedes, but he didn't want to be with her if it would wind up hurting her in the end. She'd end up hating him for bringing trouble into her life. He'd rather her not be around him, than have her hate him. She'd be safe from the judging eyes, the stabbing remarks from his mother, the torment of their peers, and the difficulties from society as a whole. And at least, if Jamie was willing to make a change for himself, Mercedes would finally be happy with someone who wasn't a coward. He was Black, he was good looking, and people seemed to be cool with him.

Jamie could show her off all he wanted to. And Sam** hated** that.


	3. Part Three

_May 16, 1982_

_**Junior Year**_

_"Billie Jean is not my lover, _

_HOO_

_She's just a girl who claims that I am the one," _

Nick spun on his toes and struck a pose.

_"But the kid is not my son."_

He smacked his knee and jumped, landing on his toes, MJ style. Mercedes couldn't be any more proud of her little protégée. He was working his ass off for his school talent show, and Mercedes knew he had it in the bag. She did, after all, teach him everything that he knew. Even though he was only ten, she could see future potential in him. They sat in the Jones family living room, replaying the record over and over until Nick had the steps down. He finished up his routine sweating profusely, but happy. Mercedes clapped, wearing a giant grin on her face.

"Nicky, you did so well," She tossed him a towel and a bottle of water, "were you practicing?"

He clapped his hand over his heart, and took a few deep breaths.

"Only the best," he raised an eyebrow, "for my lady."

Mercedes laughed from the pits of her stomach, letting out a tiny snort. Nick was a 5 foot tall, lanky, anxious kid that wore wire framed glasses, and had a fade. He was a cute kid, but for obvious reasons Mercedes wasn't interested in him.

"Talk to me in about 8 years."

He frowned, "That's too long."

She smiled at him sweetly and shook her head, "Do you want me to get arrested?"

"Nobody has to know, baby. We can keep things quiet."

She snorted again and he grinned, exposing his deep dimples. The kid had no idea, in a few years, girls would be all over him. Mercedes would be the last person on his mind when that happened. In a way, her neighbor reminded her of Jamie. Jamie was sweet, charming, flirty, and silly when he wanted to be. She caught herself smiling at the thought of him.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Nick flung himself down on the couch next to Mercedes and crossed his legs.

"Just…things." She didn't feel like talking about love to a ten year old. He wouldn't understand it. Hell, she barely understood it. She thought she was falling in love with Jamie, but there was a part of her that wasn't entirely sure. Something was holding her back. And she had a good idea what- rather, who- it was.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Nick asked, staring up at her with the biggest eyes ever. She hated being put on the spot. Especially by a child.

"I know, but these are kind of…mature problems for you. Maybe when you're older."

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, "Everyone always says that. 'When you're older'. When will I be old enough?"

She smiled, softly, at the pouting child. She was sure that she was giving Nick the same look her mother gave her when she pouted as a child.

"It'll be here before you know it. Until then, enjoy your childhood," she nudged him, "okay? Promise me that?"

He looked up at her face, and his face softened, "Anything for you, Mercedes."

Nick looked like a lovesick puppy, and it was the most adorable thing. She decided to throw him a bone, and she leaned down, kissing him on the cheek.

"Don't change, okay? Stay this sweet forever. Some girls might not appreciate it, but, trust me, you will find a girl that adores it."

"But I want you to adore it."

"I'm too old for you, Nick."

She shook her head as he pouted, once more. She pat him on the shoulder and playfully pushed him.

"Now go show me those dance moves again."

Nick stood up, slowly, and trudged to the middle of the carpet. Suddenly he brightened up.

"Can I show you a new move I learned, real quick?"

She raised an eyebrow, curiously, "Sure, I guess."

Without warning, the ten year old boy started doing body rolls, and Mercedes damn near choked on her on saliva. She had been expecting some type of break dance move. Not that. She took a deep breath while the child watched her, expectantly.

"Where the hell did you learn that?"

"Did you like it? My friend's sister's boyfriend taught it to me. I think he called it _'The Windy City.'_"

She couldn't imagine who would teach body rolls to a fifth grader. The boy did it again and giggled innocently when Mercedes made a cross in the air with her fingers.

"No…no no no. Boy, you need Jesus."

Nick rolled his eyes, ignoring her, "Sam said that it would work on you. He's a liar."

She furrowed her eyebrows together, "Sam? Sam who?"

The boy looked up to the ceiling and pressed a finger to his chin in thought, "Um…I don't know what his last name is," Nick did some elaborate shuffling move with his feet, "I don't think you know him. He chills with all the Italian dudes over by that Country Club area place."

Mercedes couldn't help but ask. It'd been so long since she'd heard from Sam Evans. After she left him, he stopped speaking to her, completely cutting himself out of her life. She'd give him a small smirk in the halls, and he'd turn away or show no reaction whatsoever. Eventually, she just quit trying to be nice, and he became just another face in the crowd. It broke her heart, realizing that it'd come to that. She wanted things to at least end amicably. She couldn't even do that right.

"Well, what's he look like?"

"You seem to wanna know a lot of crap about this dude." Nick gave her a judging glance, and she shrugged, pretending not to care.

"He just sounds like someone I remember from school." Obviously, he was so much more than just a face in the crowd. At least, to her anyway. She wasn't sure how he felt. Judging by the fact that he had a girlfriend now, he clearly moved on from the fling they had at fifteen. A part of her felt a bit jealous that he had a girlfriend already, while another part of her felt ashamed, considering she had broken up (sort of) with him first.

"What kind of school do you go to then?" Nick suddenly turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"You go to school with dealers?"

Had she heard him right? Mercedes was pretty sure that he'd said something about drugs, but she didn't want to believe it had anything to do with Sam. So she asked him.

Nick stared at the carpeted ground, and spoke just above a whisper, "Well, me and Joe were hanging out in his house watchin' TV, and then the dude Sam came in with April, Joe's sister. And they were carrying a lot of money on them. At first, I thought they found it. But, then, when I was walking home from Joe's house, I saw him selling to someone on a street corner. He saw me, but I just shook my head and kept goin'."

The apartment fell silent. The only source of sound were the cars passing in front of the open window, and the occasional passersby. Mercedes felt sick. She didn't want to believe that her sweet, innocent, kind Sam had gone down that path. She'd seen all the signs, but I guess she was too caught up in other things to really pay attention. It started over the summer. Sam slowly stopped going to team training. Jamie had begun to grow frustrated, because Sam was an important member of the team. Days passed without Sam showing up, and when he finally returned, all gloomy and bent out of shape, Jamie told him that he needed to buckle down or he'd be kicked off. They had a big argument which resulted in Sam being pulled off the court by his friends. All the way down the block, you could hear Sam screaming, "You stole her from me! Now you're gonna steal this, too?"

Thanks to Sam's outburst, all the boys on the team knew about Mercedes' past relationship with him. They didn't chastise her about it, not that she thought they would, considering they were all like her brothers. But, naturally, they didn't agree with her decision to be with him. They knew the people Sam associated with. And they knew the type of influence Marcus, Clarence, and Mahone could have on him. Mercedes told them that the past was in the past. She was with Jamie, and that was all that mattered. She'd offer to stop going to the trainings with Jamie, due to Sam's rude behavior, but he convinced her that there was no need. Sam dropped off his uniform and team jacket at the sports office, and never came back. When they came back to school for their Junior year, Jamie and Mercedes started to gain popularity as a couple, while Sam seemed to drop off the face of the Earth. Santana, the boys from the Basketball team, their new friend Mike Chang from California, and Jamie were the people she spent the most time with. They went to parties, went to Coney Island, hung out in Manhattan, went to the movies…but she'd be lying if she said that Sam hadn't crossed her mind.

Towards the middle of the year, Sam would come to class reeking of marijuana. His face was showing signs of stubble, his eyes would be bloodshot, he would always walk around with his head dropped down, and he lost all of the swagger that he had during his freshman and sophomore years. She saw what was happening to the boy she once truly cared about, but she didn't do anything to stop it.

She quickly glanced over at the clock on the wall, placed crookedly above the photograph of her and her brother when they were small.

"6:15…"she did the math in her head, figuring out how long it'd take for her to go to Sam's house and come back before dinner, "I have about 2 and a half hours."

It was barely enough, but she couldn't wait. She felt slightly idiotic for wanting to help Sam out, but a nagging feeling at the back of her mind told her that it was partially her fault. Sure, she couldn't control what he did. But she didn't mean to hurt him. She was torn. He obviously had some other problems, not just her.

After quickly ushering Nick out the house with a quick kiss on the cheek, she wrote a note for her mother telling her that she'd be home by dinnertime. She hoped that it wouldn't take too long, but she wasn't so sure. After a brief hesitation, she called up Jamie asking him to come with her. She wasn't sure what she was walking into. He seemed a little concerned as to why Mercedes was suddenly so anxious to help Sam Evans, considering how he'd been treating Jamie and the team. She couldn't fully explain it, but she told Jamie that Sam was still a good person, underneath it all. She could hear the doubt in Jamie's voice, but he eventually decided to go with her.

* * *

Sam stood at the back of his apartment building, his right hand in his pocket, and his left holding a lit cigarette. Damn it if he wasn't burning up under the hot spring sunshine, but he didn't want to bitch about it. April took a hit of the crack pipe, up against the opposite brick wall, and grinned stupidly. Her eyelashes fluttered quickly, and she blew a kiss at her boyfriend.

"Baby, you never wanna do it with me anymore!" She whined and he grimaced.

God he hated her. At first, she was almost all he could ever dream of (the woman of his dreams didn't want him anymore, he thought, bitterly). She was sweet, perky, honest, but she had a little bit of a naughty side. She was a great fuck, no doubt. And when her personality started going to shit from the drug usage, her body was all she had going for her. Now, even that was going to shit. She'd lost so much weight from the cocaine (when she could afford it), crack, cigarettes, and whatever else the girl was contaminating her body with. You could count her ribs, her cheeks were sunken in, and her once thick flowing black hair was slowly thinning. He didn't want to touch her, and he didn't feel guilty about it either.

"Yeah, well…I've got to keep my mind clear, ya know?"

He was talking out of his ass. The amount of Mary Jane he smoked probably knocked his IQ down tenfold.

"No…baby. Try! Like…EH MAH GAWD, SAMMY! You still have that stash upstairs?"

He scowled and harshly shushed her. Stupid bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut. She sank down to the floor, and he flicked the cigarette stub at her feet.

"You touch my stash, I take it up with my boss, and you get the consequences. I have the money to pay him back. You don't." He glared down at her, and she shrank away.

"That's what I thought," he said, fishing another cigarette from his pocket. The last thing he wanted was to give his hard earned money back to his boss, because his girlfriend was an idiot and an addict. He took a drag from his lit cigarette and stared up at the cloudless sky. It suddenly occurred to him what day it was. He prayed that he was wrong, but he felt the need to know.

"What's today's date?" He asked the slumping girl.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" She mumbled.

Sam was never one to hit a girl, especially not now. He had bulked up from taking boxing classes -he had to defend himself whenever a deal went bad. There had been a great many- and he was against throwing his weight around. But at that point in time, he wanted to do nothing more than kick April in the face. He often questioned why he was still with her, but then she went down on him, and he remembered. He'd learned to not let his feelings get involved. Ever since her, every other girl had paled in comparison. He searched for love in so many girls to make him forget. Eventually, he gave up and settled on April.

He'd heard around the way that Jamie and Mercedes had been together for almost a year. That was also the same day he snorted coke for the first time. It wasn't for him, that was for sure. But it made him forget about her for a while.

"Watch your mouth." He spat at her.

"Whatever."

Before he could verbally cut her down, Sam was interrupted by his father opening the back window.

"Sam, you have company," He called out to him.

"Send 'em down." Sam responded. He pulled himself up on the dumpster, preparing for his oncoming conversation with his boss. His pay was coming soon, and he anticipated going to the store and buying groceries for himself and his parents. His poor mother was working her ass off, and the pay was nowhere near as good as Sam's. But the last thing he wanted was for his mother to resort to dealing for money. Sam's dad was still struggling with finding a job. He was overqualified, and it bit him in the ass.

_Fuck college_, Sam thought, _it gets you nowhere in the end._

Harvard. Bullshit. That's why he stopped trying.

The back door slowly opened, and he turned to see who it was. There was a hint of black hair, then a silky brown arm. He gaped at the girl as she slowly stepped down the metal steps, and sharply looked up at him. His fingers tightened around the cigarette in his hand, and he realized that his hand was shaking.

"Sam," was all she said, just above a whisper. Her eyes examined him, and the light left them immediately. She looked like a woman now. Her face was very much mature, her curves more pronounced, and he desired to test out the fullness of her lips. Her skin was smooth and blemish free, and her eyes, though not as innocent (he didn't want to even think about the reasons why) were just as big and doe-like as they were when she'd…he didn't want to complete the thought.

He contemplated jumping from the dumpster and pulling her into a hug, covering her face in kisses. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, and he wanted to feel her arms around him. But she wasn't his. She left him for Jamie Johnson, right after he basically spilled his heart out to her. Suddenly, he felt angry.

"Why are you here?" He intentionally spat at her. She didn't acknowledge his tone. She glanced up at his face, and then down at the cigarette between his shaking fingers.

"You smoke now?" Her voice cracked.

He stared at her, he hoped with a look of disinterest, and he took a drag from his cigarette.

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"I came here to talk to you."

"About?"

She took a step towards him, "I'm worried about you.

He forced a chuckle, smirking at her, "Oh, that's rich. For the first time, Mercedes Jones is worried about someone other than herself." he blew smoke in the air and shook his head, "Tell me another joke. I haven't heard a good one like that in quite some time."

"I guess I deserve that," she said.

What? No. She was supposed to argue back.

"Yeah, you do. You really do," he said.

Behind Mercedes, slumped over against the brick wall, April mumbled something incoherent. Mercedes raised an eyebrow, and Sam shrugged.

"Just leave her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

Mercedes' eyes lingered on the girl once more before she turned to face Sam again.

"Is it true that you're dealing now?"

"Why, do you want some?" He asked, rolling his eyes.

"This isn't funny Sam, I'm trying to help you."

"I don't need your fucking help, Mercedes."

"Yes, you do."

He scoffed, "Since when are you the go-to girl for what Sam Evans needs?"

When he needed her the most, she wasn't there. Now that he didn't need her anymore, she decided to make a miraculous reappearance. That wasn't how things worked.

"Sam-"

"No. I'm done with you. I'm DONE," he hopped down from the dumpster and sized her up. It was at that moment that he realized how much bigger he was than her, in size and height, "do you know what I did after you left? I cried. I wouldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I begged for you to come back. And what do you go and do? You leave me for Jamie Johnson," the name felt like vomit in his mouth, "and then never speak to me again."

She deadpanned, "Don't you dare pin this on me, I tried to be friends with you."

"I didn't want friendship, Mercedes. I wanted YOU. What part of that don't you understand? Apparently none, since you had no problem prancing around school with your little boyfriend, kissing him in front of me and rubbing it in my face."

"Sam, I gave you a chance to be with me-"

"You didn't give me time to defend myself! You already had a clear decision in your mind before I could defend myself!" He bellowed in her face.

"Stop yelling at me, Sam! I wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted to be with me!" Yes, that's what he wanted. A fight. He wanted her to yell back at him. It gave him another reason to take his anger out on her.

"That's bullshit and you fucking know it! I was the only one fighting for us! You wanted nothing to do with me. I loved you, Mercedes. I needed you when everything was falling apart, and you didn't even care! I let you leave because I cared about you, but you didn't even give two shits about me when all was said and done!" He shouted.

He realized that angry tears were spilling from his eyes and he quickly wiped them up with the back of his hand. She stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, and she sniffed, wiping her nose with the heel of her hand.

"Fuck you, Mercedes." He mumbled. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"I said fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! I hate you!" He kicked the dumpster as hard as he could, leaving a dent. He kicked it again, and again, and again. When he got tired of kicking it, he punched it. His knuckle split open, but he still continued to punch it, "I was perfectly fine before you came into my life and fucked up everything! I wish I'd never met you. You ruined my life! I hate you! I fucking hate you!"

Mercedes watched, with her arms crossed over her chest, as the boy she cared so much for punched and kicked the aluminum dumpster. Tears were running down his face, and his cheeks were stained red. She barely recognized him. Sure, his hair was now a chocolate brown color, he was taller, and he'd filled out quite a bit. But she had never seen someone so cold and angry. When he told her that he hated her, it hurt all the way down to her core. But a part of her knew that it wasn't true. She knew it came from a place of hurt, and she didn't blame him.

"I hate you," he sobbed, kicking the dumpster once more, "fucking hate you."

He punched it and dropped to his knees on the filthy ground, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt helpless. She knew that Jamie was upstairs, making sure everything was okay from the window, and she also knew that he was possibly on his way down to end it, but she knew she couldn't just leave Sam. She sat on the ground beside him and pulled him close. He shook violently as he cried, and she soothingly ran her fingers through his hair, trying to keep herself from crying.

"You can hate me. It's okay," she felt foolish, telling him this. But somehow she felt she deserved it, "it's okay, Sammy."

"No! It's not! I fought for you! Why didn't you fight for me?" He sounded like a wounded man, and it broke her heart. She thought back to the relationship they had. It was true, he had made her feel loved when they had their special moments together. But outside of those moments, he played it safe. He didn't act like he wanted to be with her in public, so she left. It was confusing. He'd ignore her during the day, and go the extra mile to make up for it when they were alone. She hadn't realized that she wasn't really giving him anything back in return for the love he gave her. Instead, she complained about what he wasn't giving her.

"That's just it, Sam. I didn't know-"

"What, just because I didn't flaunt you off to my friends, you think I didn't love you? Mercedes, you were my everything," he choked back another sob, and the sound caused Mercedes' face to crumble, "I didn't want anything to happen to you. I wanted to protect you. I fought so hard to make sure you knew I loved you."

"Sam…how was I supposed to know?"

They were silent. He pulled away from her, and sat on the ground with his back to the dumpster.

"What were you trying to protect me from?"

He tilted his head to look at her. His face was still flushed red, and dried tears stained his cheeks.

"Everything. The world. The hate."

She chuckled softly, "Sam, you can't stop the world from turning. Hate is apart of everyday life."

"It didn't help that you had little birdies in your ear telling you not to trust the white boy," he scoffed, " 'he only wants your for your body' and 'you're just an experiment to him'."

Mercedes didn't deny the fact that she had, indeed, heard these things. She sat, silently, staring at him.

"While I'm being honest, I won't lie. A lot of the white guys I associated with just saw you girls as just pleasure seekers and sexual objects. I even believed that at one point. But a beautiful woman changed my mind…" His eyes burned into her own, and she looked away, "You know what the worst part is?" He lifted his head to look at her full on, "You actually believed a lot of it. You let people convince you that we didn't belong together, and you gave in." He chuckled, Ironically, "I'll openly admit, I was a scared little boy when I let you go. Yeah, I fought for you, but you deserved to know why I was fighting and what I was fighting against. It just sucks that you gave in so easily when I didn't."

She opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say.

"And then, I heard through the rumor mill that I was 'using you for sex,' and that you said no and broke up with me. Because 'I wanted to have a quick taste of chocolate before I went back to vanilla.' Funny, considering I never once pressured you to have sex. I know you didn't start the rumors, but you didn't try to stop them either."

He pulled out another cigarette and held it between his lips to light it with a lighter he fished from his pocket. After it caught, he took a slow drag, and blew smoke in the air. He took a deep breath, and sang out:

_"I heard it through the grapevine_

_Not much longer would you be mine._

_Oh I heard it through the grapevine,_

_Oh and I'm just about to lose my mind._

_Honey, honey yeah._

_I know that a man ain't supposed to cry,_

_But these tears I can't hold inside._

_Losin' you would end my life you see,_

_'Cause you mean that much to me._

_You could have told me yourself_

_That you love someone else…"_

He finished with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. His voice had matured, of that Mercedes was certain. It was deeper, held more feeling, and -dare she think it- sexier. But the thought was inappropriate at a time like that.

"So much for the 'toxic' relationship, Santana warned you about. You go off all happy with your new boy toy. And me?" He sounded like he was talking to himself more than her, but she listened anyway, allowing him to get out all of his thoughts without interruption. He sang out again:

_"People say believe half of what you see,_

_Son, and none of what you hear._

_I can't help bein' confused_

_If it's true please tell me dear?_

_Do you plan to let me go_

_For the other guy you loved before?"_

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, hard. She feared he would draw blood from how hard he was biting down.

"Sam," Mercedes finally spoke.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you this way. I never meant to hurt you at all. I-I just wanted to have a normal relationship…" And Jamie was there to give her one, although she didn't want to say it out loud. She didn't want to kick Sam while he was already down.

"We could've had one. I was just to fucking scared and stupid to realize it." He blew smoke out as he spoke.

"We didn't know any better, Sammy."

"I know better now." He said, not holding back.

"You and I both know why we can't-"

"I know."

Mercedes ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

"Can we both just admit that we fucked up and were clearly not ready for a relationship? I don't want you to hate me forever."

"I could never hate you." He stared at her with quiet intensity, "I mean, I said it. But I didn't mean it."

They sat in silence.

"I missed you, Mercy." He confessed in a whisper.

"I missed you too, Sammy."

He glanced up at the sky, and then looked back down at her with hopeful eyes, "Today is May sixteenth, you know."

He gave her a half smirk, the kind that made her heart stutter in her chest.

_Fuck._

* * *

Despite having a split open knuckle, a passed out girlfriend slumped up against a wall, and damaged pride, to Sam, nothing was worse than seeing Jamie Johnson propped up against the doorway as his head lay in Mercedes' lap and she was stroking his hair. The sun was dipping beyond the roofs of the buildings, and the sky was tinted pink. Sam was in his own personal paradise, up until Johnson had arrived

"Merce, we've got to go. You can talk to Sam later," he smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, amicably. Sam could see why Mercedes was with him. He was a good guy. If Sam caught his girlfriend stroking another guy's hair, he'd kill the guy.

"Okay," she looked down at him, and her deep brown eyes bore into his own green ones, "Call me as soon as you can, Sam. We need to have another serious discussion about your school habits and this…drug business."

A her eyes were kind, but she was entirely serious. After almost a year of not speaking, it was almost as if she'd never left.

"Will do," he sat up and stood to his feet, helping her up. He pulled Mercedes in for a hug. She tensed up at first, not being familiar to the mold of Sam's new body. Eventually, she relaxed, hugging him back. When she pulled away, he subtly admired her. In her pink, off the shoulder sweater, black jeans, and pink flats, she looked adorable. Her waterfall of black hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her bangs rested on her forehead. He quickly took in all of her before she turned and joined her boyfriend at the doorway. He placed a kiss on her cheek and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Hey stranger," she smiled, batting her eyelashes playfully.

"You're an angel, you know that?" He kissed under her ear, and she giggled.

It made Sam feel slightly ill, but he tried to ignore the feeling, because when she looked at him, he was just happy to have her back in his life. As they left the apartment building, Sam took that moment of silence to think things over. Everything wasn't hunky dory, and that was a fact. They still were a damaged pair. As much as he wanted her back, he knew it wouldn't be easy. He noticed the way she looked at Jamie. She loved him. And he loved her back. They were a perfect pair. He was tall, dimpled, good looking, he dressed way better than Sam did, and was less of a misfit than Sam was. He knew Jamie was intelligent, he was an amazing basketball player, he wasn't broke, and he looked at Mercedes like she was his entire world. If they were still together in the future, he could possibly provide for her better than Sam could. It hurt. But he could only take it one step at a time.

Behind him, against the wall, April stirred, mumbling.

"Sammy," she mumbled, "you let her call you Sammy. But I can't?"

She laid down on the dirty concrete, and stretched, "I should start calling you that from now on."

He'd forgotten she was there. When Mercedes was around, he tended to ignore every other female in the vicinity. Even his own mother, if he was on the phone.

"No, you really shouldn't."

"But, I'm your girlfriend."

"So?" He eyed her, somewhat disgusted, and shrugged.

"She has a boyfriend," she slurred, "and it's not you…so…"

Sam clenched his jaw at her, "Shut the fuck up."

She grinned, "At least you have me."

"Yeah," he said, "_at least_. Meaning I could have greater."

"You hate me don't you?"

"All you're good for is spending up money, and sucking dick," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," he turned and walked up the metal stairs into the apartment building, but not before tossing over his shoulder, "Go snort something."


	4. Interludes A and B

_October 16, 1982_

Senior Year

Mercedes gently bounced the playful two year old on her hip as she strolled through the aisles of the Salvation Army. Leroy gave her $10 so that she could buy the clothes to make her niece's Halloween costume. She was hoping to dress her up like a lion cub.

"A lion cub is good, right Marley?" Mercedes asked, holding up a suede black skirt with a heavy fringe. She could probably cut all the hideous fringe off, use it for Marley's mane, and keep the skirt for herself. The tag read $3, so she shrugged and dropped it in her basket.

"Lion! Roar!" The little girl giggled and clapped her hands.

"Roar!" Mercedes roared back, and the little girl shrieked in laughter, covering her face with her hands.

Little Marley came as a surprise to everyone, including Mama Jones. Leroy's long time girlfriend, Josephine, found out she was pregnant their senior year. Fast forward two years later, and Marley was the center of Leroy's attention. Although they weren't together anymore, he and Josephine were amicable for the sake of their daughter. Needless to say, Mercedes was always quick to take the baby off of Josephine's hands for a day or two, while she focused on college work. Although she loved Marley with every fiber of her being, Mercedes saw the struggle Josephine faced having to raise a two year old, and earn a college diploma. She respected her, but she also felt sorry for her, and made a solemn oath to never have a kid while she was still just a kid herself.

Another person that fell in love with the friendly toddler, was Sam. Sam had always been excellent with children, so when he first walked into the entrance of the Salvation Army store, and caught a glimpse of the child in Mercedes' arms, his eyes lit up. Or maybe his eyes lit up because he saw her. Mercedes was positive it was the former. He sauntered up to them with his hands in his pockets, pulling them out only to embrace Mercedes and place a lingering kiss on her cheek that lasted a little bit longer than it needed to. She felt her skin heat up under his soft lips, and she prayed he wouldn't notice. Thankfully, if he had, he didn't outwardly acknowledge it.

"So this is the famous Marley I've been hearing about, huh?" He gave the little girl a half smirk, and she shyly hid her face in the curve of Mercedes' shoulder.

"Oh, now you want to be shy?" Mercedes teased, "you were just roaring at me a minute ago."

The two year old whimpered softly, and turned her head away from Mercedes.

"She's just shy," Mercedes explained to Sam, "She always gets shy around older boys."

"It's okay, I'm used to women being intimidated by my sexiness." He flipped his hair from his face and she covered her mouth, stifling a snort.

"Okay Dr. Love," she looped her arm through his and pulled him, gently, into the baby clothes section. She leaned forward, looking at the size and prices of the different outfits on the metal rack. She eyed a powder blue leisure suit for children, and crinkled her nose in disgust, "I'm looking for a brown onesie…or maybe some footie pajamas. They have to be brown or black. And they have to have a working zipper just in case Marley has to go. Then we can change her faster. Just be on the look out, okay?" She turned to look up, only to find him staring at her with half a smirk on his face. His emerald green eyes bore into her own chocolate brown ones, overflowing with fascination and adoration.

"What?" She asked him.

"It's just," he chuckled, and smiled bigger, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle adorably, "seeing you…like this-I can't help but wonder what you'd be like when you have your own little girl."

She saw where this conversation was headed and she needed to put a stop to it immediately.

"Sam-"

"You'd be taking her out and about all the time, teaching her about life and-"

"Sam, I-"

But he was on a roll. His eyes twinkled with enthusiasm, and she felt his arm slide out from under her arm, and he grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Oh, her voice Mercy. She'll have a voice just like her mama. And she's gonna have big beautiful eyes, and your full lips. And then some knuckleheaded blonde kid will fall in love with her, and then daddy's gonna have to whoop some ass-"

"SAM-" Her voice broke, and she felt her heart clench within her chest. She pulled her hand from his, "Sam, please."

She heard the pleading in her own voice, and Sam snapped out of his euphoria, his smile fading.

Mercedes felt a light tug on her hair, "Ti-ti…Ti-ti Cedes."

The two year old stared at her with large hazel eyes and pouted, "You lelled."

Mercedes frowned, "I'm sorry I yelled, Mar."

The child shook her head and pointed at Sam, "You lelled at him."

Mercedes found herself apologizing to Sam for yelling, but he waved it off, supplying his own apology for pushing their friendship boundaries.

* * *

Sam hated seeing the broken expression on Mercedes' face. She was in a loving relationship with that guy. And they were getting very serious, much to his dismay. But why did he keep letting himself grow attached to her? He knew she wasn't completely in love with Johnson. A part of him knew that she was still in love with him. Sure, she may have loved Johnson. But she was in love with Sam. With that knowledge in mind, he wasn't afraid of losing her anymore. It just made him physically ill whenever she would kiss him the way she used to kiss Sam, or when she'd giggle at Johnson's jokes the way she used to giggle at Sam's impressions. Sam was slowly rebuilding his relationship with her, though things were still tense. With Mercedes' help, Sam started going back to school and was trying to break his smoking habit. He had to explain to her over and over again that his crash and burn wasn't her fault. Mercedes leaving him just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back. She was the one thing in his life that made everything worthwhile. But when she left, he didn't know what else to do. As of now, he was still trying to get a job so that he could stop the dealing. But no one would hire him. Until they did, he was stuck with what he knew.

He knew he was dangerously blurring the lines between friendship and romance when it came to Mercedes. But, as they walked down the street, pushing a humming Marley in a stroller, he couldn't help but feel like he belonged there- by her side, like a spousal figure. The small smile reappeared on his face as he thought of a possible future with her. He'd thought about marrying the girl since he was fifteen, and now that he was turning eighteen soon, the dream was possible. The autumn wind picked up, blowing Mercedes hair into the air. He caught the scent of vanilla, and he sighed in content. As they stopped at the corner of the block, Mercedes let out a short shudder from the cold, and zipped her black leather jacket up to her neck. Clenching his fists at his sides, Sam resisted the urge to pull her close to him. He was torturing himself when he followed her around like a shadow, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn into her, and, as hard as he'd tried, he couldn't let her go. Not again. When he realized that forgetting about her was impossible, he gave into his weakness. He wanted to be around her every day- or, at least, as much as he could without being her boyfriend.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mercedes asked. The light turned red, and they began to cross a long, busy street. A few people bumped into Sam's shoulder. Some by accident, but a number of them were possibly on purpose.

"You."

He glanced down at her, only to catch her forcing a straight face. "Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause, and then Sam remembered something, "Remember when you came over to my house for the first time?"

She navigated the stroller around a crack in the sidewalk, and Sam briefly stumbled over the back wheel of the stroller.

"Yeah," she quickly shot him an apologetic look, "that's when you and I were watching…what was it…Charlie Brown? We were watching-"

"A Charlie Brown Christmas."

She smiled fondly at the memory, "And you knew it line for line. It was the funniest thing."

The thought of her grinning at the thought of him made him feel like he was on a high. Hell, he would do the impressions right there in the middle of the street if it meant she'd giggle for him again.

"So, listen…" They rounded another corner, and he'd realized that they were not too far away from Sam's apartment building, "I got your dad something. I know how he likes the Mets, and I saw this hat…"

Sam looked over at the girl and she bit her lip, nervously, "You didn't have to buy him anything."

"Ti-ti!"

"Oh, but your dad is so sweet, and he's always asking if I'm alright every time I see him. I thought that he'd like the hat-" Mercedes babbled on and ran her fingers through her hair.

Sam couldn't help but smile at her. She was absolutely adorable when she was anxious.

" 'Cedes, it's okay, I'll take it up to him."

"Ti-ti!"

He hesitated when she saw that her nervous facial expression didn't subside, "Um…well…actually, I was kinda hoping that I could take it up to him. I haven't really seen him in a while, you know."

Sam clenched his jaw. He knew that she was thinking about his mother. His stupid mother. The one that took one look at Mercedes and declared her unfit to be his girlfriend. Sam had no plans of introducing Mercedes to Cynthia Evans, knowing fully well his mother wouldn't be nice. But she caught them kissing in a local park, and he was forced to explain himself.

"Well-um-I…" He stammered.

"You know what," she raised a hand, "forget I asked. It's okay-"

"No, it's fine-"

"TI-TI!" Marley interrupted. She waved her tiny hands in the air, "JUICE!"

"In a minute, Marley."

"JUICE, TI-TI! JUICE!" She started squirming in the stroller and whimpering.

Sam walked around to the front of the stroller, and unbuckled the stroller, plucking the toddler from her seat. Marley cried out for juice again, and he smiled warmly at her.

"Hey now, munchkin, none of that," he held her with both arms as Mercedes searched through the bottom of the stroller for Marley's sippy cup, "You don't wanna make Auntie 'Cedes sad do you?"

The little girl stared at him with big hazel eyes and pouted, shaking her head. Her little brown pigtails shook this way and that, and the pink bobbles at the ends made rattling noises.

"I can't find the cup, ugh," Mercedes pinched the bridge of her nose, "I think I left it either at home or in the store."

"Ti-ti, juice!" The little girl pouted again, getting restless in Sam's arms. She whimpered and Sam rubbed her back soothingly. The little girl hooked her arms around Sam's neck, and rested her head on his shoulder.

"If it helps, there's some apple juice in my apartment," he suggested, "if you want, we can go up and get some. Hopefully, the wench won't be there."

She smirked at him and shook her head, "Sure. I'm sure Marley is just drowsy anyway. She's usually napping by now," she exhaustedly glanced at the stroller again and sighed, "I'm never having kids."

Sam fought the doubtful chuckle building in his chest, and instead grinned. They decided to stroll in the direction of Sam's apartment building. A few people walking down the street glanced in their direction and shook their heads. Sam suddenly became well aware of how this looked to people. Two teenagers, one white and one black, with the light skinned toddler he had cradled in his arms. By the time they arrived at the red, brick building, the temperature had dropped and it was getting dark. A strong gust of wind blew, and Marley shivered in Sam's arms. He instinctively held her closer to him, hoping his body heat would help warm her. The little bleached denim jacket that she had on wasn't doing anything against the cold, and he rolled his eyes.

"Where's her coat?" He asked.

"They didn't pack her with one," Mercedes mirrored his eye roll, "you'd think that, in the middle of fall, they'd think to pack her something a little heavier. My brother, I swear…."

The wind blew again and Marley started to tear up.

"I don't like this," she whimpered into Sam's shoulder.

"We're almost inside, munchkin. You'll be warm in a minute," He cooed to her, rubbing her back.

Seeing Sam being so affectionate towards Marley warmed Mercedes' heart. It was so adorable how he bounced her in his arms and rubbed her back because she was cold. She found herself staring at the pair for a moment, only to find Sam staring back at her.

"What?"

She snapped back into reality, "Nothing."

She collapsed the stroller and Sam held an arm out to her, "Give it."

"Then give me Marley," She said, placing a hand on her hip.

He raised an eyebrow, "I've got it."

"This is my niece we're talking about, Sam. Not a doll."

"I'm not going to drop the her, Mercedes."

"I don't care, I don't trust it."

He sighed and threw his head back. A puff of white air escaped his lips and Mercedes chuckled at his dramatic nature. He tilted his head down and smirked at her.

"Mercedes," he said, stressing her name, "just open the door for me. I've got this."

She hesitated, "If you so much as stumble-"

"I'm not going to drop the baby," he said.

Cautiously, Mercedes gave Sam the stroller and jogged up the stairs to open the front door for him. She sort of got the distinct feeling that Sam was trying to prove something to her.

The inside of Sam's apartment building wasn't completely warm, but it was better than the bitter cold of the outdoors. She could smell someone in the building cooking pasta, and some big band music drifted down the hallway.

"You remember the way, right?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah. 3C right?"

He nodded, and she glanced up the winding stairwell that disappeared above their heads.

"Okay give me, Marley," Mercedes said, holding her arms out. Walking into the building was one thing, a winding staircase was something completely different. Without any protests, Sam passed the drowsy toddler into Mercedes' waiting arms. Marley shifted, and then finally adjusted herself into Mercedes' body. Her eyes were closing slowly, and Mercedes slowly rubbed her back. She knew she was tired.

By the time they reached the third floor, Marley was snoring lightly into Mercedes' ear. She couldn't help but giggle at how adorable the little girl looked when she was asleep.

"You know, she kinda looks like you," Sam said, fishing into his jeans for his keys.

"You think so?"

Mercedes looked at the toddler again for confirmation. Marley was, after all, her brother's child.

"Absolutely. She has your nose and lips."

Sam gave her a half smirk and she returned it. As he slowly unlocked and opened the door, Mercedes was met with the familiar scent of Charlie perfume, which only meant one thing.

"Sammy," the familiar woman's voice called, "I've been looking everywhere for you where-"

She glanced at Mercedes and Marley, and then cut her eyes at them.

"H-Hey, Mrs. Evans." Mercedes sheepishly greeted.

* * *

Mrs. Cynthia Evans always had it out for Mercedes. Sam knew why. Cynthia was the child of upper middleclass parents that profited off of the war, and moved into the predominantly-white suburbs of Westchester County. She met Sam's father in high school, they got married at eighteen, and have been bound together for twenty two years in a loveless marriage. Sam didn't hate his mother. Sam couldn't hate anybody. But he found that his mother was a very difficult person to like. She was obnoxious, inappropriately stuck up, and a raging bigot. Sure, she was pretty. Hell, Cynthia Evans was beautiful, but anger and smoldering hatred took a toll on her former model good looks. Her long, blonde hair was beginning to gray and thin out. Her radiant skin was beginning to sallow, and her bright blue eyes frequently appeared to be an icy gray. She gained weight in her legs and stomach, but her thin arms made her appear disproportionate. She had the tendency to be kind, but the recent economic struggles made those moments far and in between. What do you do when a former privileged beauty queen is forced to live among the common folk? Sam chose to ignore her, and spent as little time as possible within the house. The only times he ever went home were to sleep, eat, drop off money, and use the bathroom. His father, though kind and understanding, had turned into a puddle of slush under his wife's domineering ways. It irritated Sam to see his father, who had once been part of an equal partnership, reduced to a submissive pile of soft dough.

And so, there they stood. Locked in a three way stare down. Sam stared at his mother, his mother glared at Mercedes, but Mercedes kept her eyes trained on Sam. He could feel his jaw clench, anticipating his mother to say something she would regret. Unlike his spineless father, he had no problem putting her in her place, if need be. As expected, she opened her mouth first.

"Nice of you to stop by, Samuel," she didn't tear her eyes away from Mercedes, but addressed her son coldly, "I was beginning to think you'd taken off again."

The intensity in Mercedes' gaze intensified. He could almost hear her voice ringing through his head.

Again? Sam, when did you run off?

It was a long story appropriate for another time. Sam refused to take his eyes off of that woman. He knew that, if he were to look away, she would either make an obscene gesture to Mercedes, or throw something at her. It's happened before.

"No," Sam spoke through clenched teeth, "I didn't run off again. Lucky for you."

"What's she doing here?"

Mercedes cleared her throat, and he finally felt her gaze lift from him, "I actually came here to give something to your husband. I saw this hat, and-"

"We don't want your charity," Cynthia spat.

"It's not charity," Mercedes countered, "it's a gift."

"I don't care what it is. We don't want it."

Although his back was to Mercedes, he could hear her shift in posture, and he knew her hand was on her hip.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Evans," she spoke as if the title should be used ironically, "I don't understand why you're using the word 'we,' when I specifically stated that it was meant for Mr. Evans."

"Well, he doesn't want it."

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and groaned,

"Look, we're just gonna drop off the fucking hat, grab the apple juice, and head out." He made his way towards the fridge and opened it, looking for the brand new container he'd bought the day before.

"What do you need apple juice for?" His mother asked, her tone a little softer, but replaced with confusion.

"For the baby…for Marley," Sam responded, pushing the water jug out of the way with his right hand. He located the apple juice container at the back corner of the fridge, and proceeded to remove it, taking care not to spill the water jug over.

"Why are you giving our hard earned food to someone else's child?" The softness was gone, and her words shot out with every intention to sting, "It's not our fault Jones can't keep her legs closed. It's no surprise she can't feed a kid."

* * *

The choked noise that came out of Sam's throat echoed the one that came out of Mercedes'. Cynthia Evans looked Mercedes square in the eye, with no hint of an apology on her face. Mercedes heard the door to the fridge slam closed.

"You know what, Cynthia," Sam started towards his mother with the apple juice container clutched in his left hand. His jaw was clenched and his eyes looked wild with anger. It took all of Mercedes' power not to allow Sam to splash the juice on his mother. Instead she grabbed his leather clad arm, and tried to pull him back towards her.

"Sam, it's okay," She assured him. As much as she wanted Sam to unleash his fury on his mother, Mercedes had something better planned, "she doesn't know. It's okay."

He kept his eyes locked on her, but his tone was softer, "Doesn't know what?"

"Obviously she doesn't know that Marley is ours," She stated, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," Cynthia chuckled, "that's rich. Don't drag my son down in a pursuit for your next welfare check."

"Nobody's dragging him down," Mercedes calmly responded, knowing fully well she was about to shut the bitch up, "in fact, I've gotten him to go back to school, and I have every intention of going to college. Hopefully, I can earn a degree so I can provide for little Marley. Sam will go to college, after, and we'll both take part in raising our little angel."

Cynthia's smug expression dropped completely, and she began opening and closing her mouth as if she were searching for words. The worried expression in her eyes, and worry lines in her forehead almost caused Mercedes to break out in a fit of laughter. But she had to keep her face completely serious.

The corner of Sam's lips twitched, and he threw an arm around Mercedes, pulling her close.

"It's true," he added, "Marley and Mercedes are the best things to ever happen to me. I've never been so in love."

He twisted the toddler's curls around his finger affectionately, and she let out a tiny whimper in her sleep, adding to the affect.

"And to think," he stage whispered to Mercedes, "that this beautiful child was the product of our love."

His jade-colored eyes pierced into her own, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Mercedes' cheeks to heat up.

"Enough! I've heard enough, Samuel-"

"Absolutely" Mercedes cut her off, "You know what? I love our child so much, I think I just might go tell everybody in this building about her." She smiled at him, tilting her head down to look at the little girl in her arms.

"Why stop there?" Sam looked squarely at his mother and grinned, "we should just tell the entire neighborhood about Marley. I'm sure they'd LOVE to hear about her."

"You wouldn't dare!" Cynthia challenged him with a single step, at which he chuckled.

"Try me. You think I won't?" He clenched his jaw in defiance.

"Samuel how could you be so stupid? How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to me? Don't you care about this family's reputation?" She spoke quickly, nervously, and stammered over her words.

"Clearly, I don't-"

"First, there's the drug dealing, and now this?"

He swallowed hard, "I only do that for us."

"Why can't you find a real job? Are you that stupid?" She spat at her only son. Mercedes heard herself make a sharp intake of breath, and Sam closed his eyes, nodding slowly, and placed the juice container on the kitchen counter.

"Of course you'd think that-" He whispered.

"I have every right to think that. We're living in squalor, Samuel. I can't deal with this. We need more money, and clearly this drug thing isn't working."

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "So then what do you suppose I do, Ma? What? I'm doing the best that I can and you seem to only care about what's in it for you? So, what? Enlighten me. Should I go out and steal? Or should I go and start selling my body?"

To Mercedes' shock and revulsion, Cynthia appeared to have been contemplating those options.

"As long as no one sees you."

Sam looked as though he'd been slapped. Mercedes reached out and grabbed his hand, rubbing the heel of his palm with her thumb. She couldn't, nor would she, say anything at that moment. He bit down on his bottom lip.

"Or, you know, you could just pack your shit and leave. Seeing as how I'm the only one in this fucking family that makes enough money for us to survive," his voice rose, "I pay the rent, I buy our clothes, I pay for the roof over our god damn heads. I won't miss you. I know I won't miss you. As a matter of fact, here," his breathing picked up and he clenched his fist opposite the hand I was holding, shoving his hands into his pockets and pulling out wads of cash. He threw it at her, and her eyes momentarily lit up. The sight disgusted Mercedes as the woman dropped to her knees and scooped the money up greedily, "you figure out ways to spend the money! I'm done with all of this!"

Without a second thought, he grabbed the collapsed stroller, forgetting the juice, and ushered Mercedes out of the door in front of him. His face was bright red, he was breathing heavily, and sucking his lips inward. Mercedes was at a loss for words. Was this a normal thing in the Evans household? His mother would throw insults, and he'd storm out, only to forgive his only mother and return like a lost puppy? Once the duo stepped foot on the bottom landing, Marley had managed to fall asleep again, and Sam was trying his best to take control of his emotions. He plopped himself on the bottom two shag-carpet covered steps and rested the stroller at his feet. The dimly lit foyer gave everything a warm amber glow, only complimented by the dark skies outside the foyer window above the front door.

"Why does this keep happening?" He mumbled, resting his head in his empty palms. He shook his head and sighed.

Not quite sure what to do, Mercedes decided to do what she did best, and began slowly stroking Sam's hair affectionately. He tilted his head to the right and closed his eyes.

"You know what this reminds me of," he said. His raspy voice was about 2 octaves deeper than normal, and Mercedes bit her lip.

"What?"

"That time you comforted me when John died."

She thought back to a few years earlier when Sam came crying on her doorstep because some crazed nut job shot John Lennon and killed him. He was hysterical, and it took Mercedes, Leroy, and Mrs. Jones hours to calm him down. He was sobbing heavily and shaking. Mercedes had him cuddled in her lap, and she was stroking his hair, humming. He eventually dozed off, only to wake up the next morning completely stoic. He didn't smile much, and wouldn't eat. Mrs. Jones and Leroy didn't quite understand why he took John Lennon's death so hard. But Mercedes did. She'd feel the same way if Prince or Michael Jackson died. They were both her entire life, and couldn't imagine being without them. Sure, Mercedes wasn't Sam's girlfriend anymore. But she would always be his best friend. And just like that moment on December 8, 1980, Mercedes took it upon herself to be a friend, once more.

"Yeah," she finally said, "It is like that…sort of. Except you're not crying hysterically and shaking."

His face heated up and she smiled down at him.

"C'mon," she gently tapped the back of his head, "you can stay with me…again."

"I don't want to impose."

"Shut up and go get your clothes," Mercedes rolled her eyes and pursed her lips.

He hesitated, and then stood up, towering over Mercedes already small frame.

"Can I bring my Ramones poster this time?"

She bit her lip, and looked to the ceiling, pretending to give it deep thought.

"Fine."

"And the Star-"

"Not the Star Wars poster. That stays here. My house will not become a nerd fortress."

Sam pouted, adorably, only to tilt his head down and give her a half smirk. She found herself smirking back, involuntarily.

"Thanks, 'Cedes. For everything."


End file.
